


Sam Cooke Plans

by Em_Jaye



Series: Good Madness [6]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Good Madness Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 00:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14884082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness"-Neil GaimanSpring fever





	Sam Cooke Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amerna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amerna/gifts).



> This is so incredibly overdue. Holy cow. This was supposed to be April's fic for the Good Madness AU but life just made it too damn difficult to get it posted on time. It's also CONSIDERABLY longer than I expected because I just can't stop with these two. As such, it's probably riddled with typos because I can't make myself wait any longer to post this. 
> 
> All the thanks go to Amerna, my favorite enabler <3

The tree outside Steve’s front stoop had just started to bloom on that Sunday morning when Bucky rang the doorbell. He heard laughter and the tumble of footsteps before the door lurched open and Darcy appeared on the other side. With messy hair and in an old t-shirt of Steve’s over a pair of shorts, she greeted him with a smile.

“Hey,” she stepped back and waved him in. “I thought you had a key.”

“I do,” he admitted with a shrug. “But, y’know,” he stepped inside, “I didn’t call first; and these days,” he added with a wink, “I never know what I’m interrupting.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and closed the door behind him. “Well, the only thing you’re interrupting this morning is breakfast, Barnes,” she assured him. “Did you eat?”

“Just a bowl of cereal before my shift was over.”

She scoffed. “Cereal?” she repeated. “On a Sunday morning? Sacrilege.” She pointed south. “Kitchen. Now. Get thee an omelet.”

“Did I hear Uncle Bucky?” Charlotte’s own voice preceded her appearance in the hallway. Her eyes brightened, and her face lit up as she charged at him for a hug.

He scooped her up easily and threw her in the air before he caught her and let her throw her arms around his neck. “Good morning, Bear,” he said to the side of her head and pressed a kiss to her messy hair. “You drivin’ Dad crazy?”

Charlotte pulled away and smiled proudly. “Only when I’m awake,” she assured him, drawing a laugh from Darcy as he set her back down.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “What’s the word of the day?”

She squinted in thought and looked back over her shoulder at Darcy. “How do you say it, again?”

When he glanced over, Darcy was smiling. “I think it was _perspicacious,_ ” she supplied.

He raised his eyebrows. “Jeez. That calendar’s not messing around.”

“It means smart,” Charlotte informed him.

“Then it’s the perfect word for you, isn’t it?” he commented, making her grin as she took his hand and led him the rest of the way down the hall.

The kitchen was a predictably cheerful mess of plates, coffee mugs, Charlotte’s markers and a coloring book and the patch-covered vest she wore to Girl Scouts. Darcy’s red scarf was tossed over the hook by the back door and a stack of junk mail covered the counter by the microwave.

“Hey, man,” Steve greeted from the stove. “Hungry?”

“Sure,” Bucky shrugged and dropped into the empty seat between Darcy and Charlotte.

“Daddy, can you read my word of the day again?” Charlotte asked, digging back into her breakfast.

Steve reached for the day-by-day calendar above the sink and cleared his throat. “ _Perspicacious_ ,” he began. “ _Adjective._ _Having keen mental perception and understanding. Synonyms: alert, aware, clever.”_

Charlotte grinned as he set the calendar back down. “It’s a good one,” she decided with a nod. “Mr. Morris at school would say it’s the kind of word you have to chew on.”

Bucky laughed again, marveling for a moment at how much he learned from Charlotte every time he saw her. “So, Rogers-Lewis Collective,” he glanced from one adult to the other before his eyes landed back on Charlotte, “Chewy words of the day aside, what are you guys up to?”

Steve checked his watch and spared a look over his shoulder at his daughter. “We _might_ be going to a movie if somebody gets her room clean like I asked her three times already.”

Charlotte grimaced and got to her feet again, grabbing the remaining slice of buttered toast from her plate. “I’m cleaning!” she insisted. “I’m cleaning right now! Don’t change your mind!”

She was up the stairs before anyone could ask her again.

Bucky glanced over to find Darcy smiling in the direction Charlotte had just run. “How’s business, Queen of Tarts?”

She offered him a smile and shrug of her shoulders. “Good. We’re in a nice, predictable, post-Valentine’s Day, pre-Mother’s Day lull right now.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “And that’s good?”

Darcy grabbed her coffee mug and took a sip. “Only if you like to catch your breath every now and then.”

“Speaking of,” Steve set a plate with a sausage and tomato omelet in front of him. “You ever getting a day off again?”

Bucky cleared his throat, realizing Steve was talking to him. He accepted the silverware he was offered and cut into the edge of his omelet. “I’m trying,” he admitted. “Just seems like there’s a lot of vacation time going around,” he shrugged. “Someone’s gotta cover.”

“Daddy!” Charlotte’s voice shot down the stairs.

“Yeah?” Steve called back over the sound the pan he’d been using made as it dropped into the crowded sink.

“Do you know where my inhaler is?”

Bucky watched, entertained, as Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Why don’t _you_ know where your inhaler is?” he asked, raising his voice to address the ceiling.

There was a heavy pause from upstairs and the sound of bare feet scurrying back to her room. In the kitchen, Darcy got to her feet. “I’ll help her look for it,” she said with a hum of amusement. “Then, I’m gonna jump in the shower.” She stretched up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips to Steve’s before she turned back to Bucky. “If you’re gone by the time I get out, it was good seeing you.” She squeezed his shoulder on the way out.

“You too,” Bucky called after her. “Oh,” he sat up with a start after she’d padded up the stairs after Charlotte. He reached into his pocket, remembering why he’d stopped at Steve’s in the first place, and retrieved a folded stack of papers. Fundraising forms Charlotte had left with him the last time he’d picked her up from Girl Scouts. “Before I forget.”

Steve accepted them as he sat in Darcy’s recently vacated chair and studied them with a critical eye. “Where did all these orders come from?” he asked. “She said she just got these last week.”

He shrugged. “I took it to the station and passed it around for her.” Steve gave him a look. “What?” he shrugged again before he dug into his breakfast. “You know as well as I do, firefighters’ll buy anything if they can eat it.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “You know when you do this, you’re not really letting her get the full soul-draining entrepreneurial experience of begging your friends and family for money.”

“She told me last week she wants to be a judge when she grows up,” Bucky reminded him. “She’s gonna be borrowing money for a whole lotta years before that career starts paying off.”

“Mmm,” Steve mused and rubbed a hand over the scuff on his chin. “A judge is good. She told _me_ she wants to be in the Ice Capades. Which,” he shrugged, “guess I have Nat to thank for that one.”

He snorted a laugh and resisted the urge to squirm at the mention of Natasha’s name. “Hey,” he hummed around a bite of eggs and tomatoes and motioned to the fundraising forms again. “You should tell Wilson to take that to the precinct.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried he’ll drum up more orders?”

He pretended to be shocked. “Not _everything_ is a competition between us.”

Steve looked relieved. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for fifteen years.”

“Anyway,” Bucky continued, feeling himself start to grin. “Cops are cheap bastards and there’s no way he’s gonna get her more orders than me.”

Steve’s relief left him with a heavy sigh. “Never change, Buck.”

“Speaking of change,” Bucky let his eyes drift around the kitchen a second time. The more he looked, the more traces of Darcy he found everywhere. Her purse was on the counter, a photo of the three of them from New Year’s Day was on the refrigerator, things that had never lived in Steve’s kitchen before—a timer shaped like a lady bug, an overflowing box of recipe cards, a pink iPod from 2008—were scattered around the counter by the stove. He smiled again. “You seem to be doing surprisingly well in the romance department these days.”

Steve paused, his fork raised halfway to his lips and rolled his eyes. “Gee,” he resumed his bite. “Thanks.”

 “Hypothetically speaking,” Bucky cleared his throat and started to ask his question before he had too much time to consider it. “If you were going to take Darcy somewhere special—kid free," he clarified, “where would you go?”

His best friend stared blankly at him. “Why?”

Instantly regretting asking, he found himself unable to back-track and tried to rephrase. “Y’know…” his hand rifled through the air for a second, stirring up the words he was looking for. “Like…if you had _just_ gotten together and the only time you ever saw each other was for fifteen minutes at a time because you both work too much and you wanted to take her out on a real, actual date,” he paused and took a breath, “what would you do?”

The creases in Steve’s forehead deepened. “But that’s _not_ what happened when we first got together. We went on a real date pretty much right away.” Bucky sighed and ran a hand over his face as Steve continued. “And since I know you know that and this doesn’t sound like Darcy put you up to suggesting something—”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Who are you trying to impress?”

He pulled his hand away and hesitated.

It had been three weeks since his birthday. Since Natasha had pressed her lips to his and sent everything in his brain into a tailspin. In those three weeks, they’d seen each other only a handful of times and every time, he was pretty sure they’d tried to talk to each other. To figure out what exactly was going on and what they were doing.

But that hadn’t really worked out.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat and considered lying for a whole second before he decided against it. “Natasha, actually.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a good, long moment before the corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Okay,” he said around a laugh and held up his empty hand in mock surrender. “That’s cool, you don’t have to tell me.”

Bucky blinked and watched Steve chuckle to himself like he’d just told a joke. “No, I—”

“FOUND IT!” Charlotte appeared in the doorway, holding her inhaler victoriously over her head.

Steve glanced over and smiled. “Did _you_ find it? Or did Darcy find it?”

“Me,” she said proudly and crossed over to pull herself up onto her father’s lap. “It was in the pocket of my ballet sweater.”

“Hmm,” Steve nodded and let her lean back against him. “And where is it supposed to be?”

Charlotte’s uneven teeth sank into her bottom lip. “Um. In my backpack?”

“Correct. So where are you going to put it now, before you forget?”

She turned around and gave him an innocent smile. “In my backpack.”

“Good girl,” Steve nodded. “Is your room clean?”

“Yup.”

“No Legos on the floor?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Did you make your bed?”

“Yup.”

“And pick up your clothes so I can do laundry tonight?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”

Bucky’s phone buzzed in his pocket; he glanced down and found a text waiting for him.

_I have an hour between classes from 10 to 11,_ it read. _Third floor._

He found he could not control the smirk that wanted to curl his lips as he responded, _Copy that,_ and tucked his phone away again.

When he looked up, Charlotte was studying him closely. “Do you have to go back to work, Uncle Bucky?” she asked finally, her eyes squinting in deliberation.

“Uh, no,” he said quickly. “Not until late tonight.”

She was still studying him; he could see the wheels turning in her head and he couldn’t help but think that her recent desire to be a judge might be a smart choice after all.

He cleared his throat and stole a glance at the time as he finished the omelet Steve had made for him. “I should get moving, though,” he said, feeling only a little guilty for letting Steve think he was lying about Nat. “If you guys are heading out. But I think I’m going back to a normal schedule soon. We should try to do dinner or something.”

Steve nodded as Charlotte hopped down from his lap. “Sounds good; see you later.”

“I’ll walk you out, Uncle Bucky,” Charlotte insisted and took his hand. She waited until they had reached the door before she smiled up at him. “Don’t worry,” she said in a whisper. “I won’t tell anyone that you have a new girlfriend.”

Bucky felt his eyes widen in surprise. “Excuse me? Who told you that?”

“You did,” she said with a grin and a shrug of her shoulders. “You made a stupid heart-eyes face when you checked your phone.” Her smile widened so he could count how many teeth she’d lost recently. “I was being _perpicacious_ ,” she added, tapping her temple.

Bucky laughed and bent down to be at eye level. “You keep chewing on that word, Lottie Bear,” he said, ruffling her hair. “And I _don’t_ have a new girlfriend, okay?”

That wasn’t a lie, he told himself. Natasha wasn’t his girlfriend. They were…

He didn’t know what they were, except that he wanted more of whatever it was.

Charlotte schooled her features into a more serious expression. “Okay; I believe you,” she agreed before she gave him a big, exaggerated wink.

He laughed again and pulled her in for a quick hug and a kiss to the top of her head.

 

***

 

Natasha had not been expecting this.

Not the crush on Bucky, not the fluttering in her stomach when he smiled at her, not the addictive nature of his kisses and the feeling of his hands gripping possessively at her hips when he backed her against the padded wall of the self-defense room at the gym, and definitely not the way he pulled away unexpectedly and pressed his forehead to hers. “Hey,” he breathed with a soft smile that had her wishing he hadn’t taken forty of the sixty minutes she had free just to get to there.

She smiled back. “Hey,” she said before leaning in again, hungry for another kiss before she had to go. “You’re late.”

“I know,” he reached up to toy with a lock of her hair that had fallen into her face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said and traded another quick kiss. “I was just hoping to steal a little more time with you.”

Stealing time. That’s the only way she could think to label what it was they were doing. Meeting for brief moments between shifts and classes, a frantic mess of kisses and hands and warmth and _almost_ enough to satisfy her craving for more.

Almost.

Not quite. Not after three weeks of barely-there encounters and conversations exchanged mostly via text.

“When’s your next night off?” Bucky asked, surprising her as he pulled away when she tried to kiss him again.

“Uh…” her forehead creased in thought. “I think I’m off on Friday, actually. Why?”

“Would you…” he stopped and stood up straighter, giving her a little more space between him and the wall. “Would you want to go out with me?”

She blinked. “Out? Like… _out_ out?”

He smiled. “Yeah,” he said and pushed her hair back again. “Like, _out_ out.  On a real date.”

She gave him a coy smile, hoping he didn’t see through it to the way her stomach fluttered again without her permission. “That seems kind of official, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky shrugged, but didn’t relax his grin. “Is that a yes?”

“What kind of real date?”

He reached down and interlaced their fingers, pulling her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “The kind where neither of us are running off after ten minutes; or too tired to keep our eyes open to finish a conversation,” he said. “I want to spend some actual time with you.”

He kissed the top of her hand again and Natasha had to swallow back a rush of nervous excitement at the thought of what he might have in mind. “Anything more specific?”

He shrugged again, not letting go of her hand yet. “I was thinking somewhere we don’t order off a menu on the side of a truck. What do you think?”

“Be still my heart,” she said with a soft laugh. She leaned in to kiss him again but stopped as she caught the hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Yes,” she said finally, pleased that it was what he’d needed to hear to relax again. “I’d be happy to go out with you on Friday.”

The smile he gave her was almost too sweet as it crinkled the corners of his blue eyes. “Good,” he said as he leaned in for another kiss.

She let herself sink into him for only a moment before she pulled away regretfully with a groan. “I really do need to get ready for class though,” she reminded and pushed gently on his chest.

“Want any help?”

Natasha smirked. “Not unless you want to be the attacker we practice take-downs on.” She watched him consider it before she shook her head. “I was kidding. You don’t have to volunteer to get beat up by fifteen women just to impress me.”

He shrugged. “I can think of worse ways to spend a Sunday. And besides,” he added with a grin that almost made her blush, “I’ve seen you for about an hour in the last two weeks. I’ll take what I can get.”

 

 

True to form, Natasha did _not_ get any more time with Bucky after he limped away from the gym on Sunday afternoon. She was pretty sure he regretted his offer to be their attacker by the time class was over, but he’d lied and said he’d had fun when she texted him later to check on him.

After that, most of her week was a blur of the hospital and the gym, with two unfortunate visits to the police station in the middle of the night.

By the time Friday rolled around, she was nearing her limit of how little sleep she could have and still be upright.

Her phone lit up, interrupting the yawn she was trying unsuccessfully to hide behind her hand.

_Hey,_ Bucky had written before sending a little smiley face.

Natasha bit back a grin for a second before she rolled her eyes at herself and responded, _Hey._

_Still on for tonight?_

She looked at the clock. It was just after two: if she left on time and traffic wasn’t terrible, she could get home in time for a power nap before she had to get ready.

_Of_ _course,_ she replied and debated with herself for a moment before she sent him a smiling emoji in return.

_Great,_ Bucky wrote back. _I hope a 7:30 res is okay?_

Natasha smiled and fought back another yawn. _Food trucks take reservations now?_

_Only the best for you,_ he replied, making her laugh. _Pick you up around 7?_

_Sounds good,_ she wrote back. _See you then._

She flipped her phone over at the sound of a knock on her office door. Her supervisor, Elizabeth, popped her head in a second later. “Hey,” she greeted with a brief smile. “There’s a detective here to see you.”

Natasha frowned as her good mood evaporated. “Did they say what it’s about?”

Elizabeth looked grim. “Cristabella Hayes hasn’t been to school in four days. Her mother isn’t answering her phone and her father claims he hasn’t seen her in two weeks.”

She felt her heart sink. “You mean when he picked them both up from the ER?”

“Sounds about right,” Elizabeth said and opened the door further to beckon to someone in the hallway. “I’ll send them back.”

She dug for Cristabella’s file, trying to remain positive that the eleven-year-old’s absence was the work of the flu going around and not her dangerous and chaotic home life.

 

***

 

Bucky was trying his best not to assume the worst.

Well, not the _worst_ worst. He was pretty sure that nothing life-threatening had befallen Natasha in the hours since he’d last heard from her and now.

This moment, when he checked his watch for the hundredth time while he stood outside her building.

The 7:30 reservation was long gone by this point. It was almost 8:15 and he’d been waiting for her to answer him or give some indication that she was still within reach since ten to seven.

If it had been any other woman, Bucky knew he would have left by now. Honestly, if any other woman had made him wait almost a month before carving out time to attempt a real date, he would have lost interest.

But Natasha just happened to be the woman who’d been dancing in the back of his subconscious for the last eleven years. The woman he had always told himself would never be more than a fantasy. The one who—if he was being honest—he’d spent the last decade unfairly measuring everyone else against.

He had reminded himself that they’d spoken just that afternoon. That she knew he was planning on picking her up. And most importantly, that she was worth waiting for.

So he had been waiting for almost an hour and a half. Bouncing his heels off the retaining wall outside of her building. Checking his watch. Looking up every time a car pulled up.

Trying not to panic.

The cold concrete was finally starting to hurt by 8:23, when the yellow cab finally stopped and a familiar flash of red caught his eye.

Natasha got out of the car carrying too much. Her gym bag fell across her chest and her arms were full of her large purse and a bright blue plastic bag he recognized from the hospital. Her high heeled boots didn’t make sense with the pale green scrubs she’d paired them with and when she turned back to close the cab door, he caught the remnants of what was once probably a very sleek ponytail barely clinging to life at the top of her head.

Her face fell when she turned back and noticed him. “Shit.”

Bucky felt himself smile as he hopped down from his seat on the wall. “Good to see you too, Gorgeous.”

Her shoulders dropped lower as she shuffled toward him and her cab pulled away. “I’m so late,” she stated. “And you’re still here. And you’re wearing a tie.”

He met her at the foot of the stairs and took her bags from her. Any lingering resentment he might have felt evaporated when he got close enough to see her smudged eye makeup and the exhaustion radiating from her every move. “All true statements,” he said with a nod.

She sighed and brought a hand up to her face. “I’m so sorry. I left my charger at home and my phone died sometime in the middle of the afternoon and I got pulled in a million directions and then a victim I was with in the ER started coughing up blood all over me which,” she motioned to her scrubs, “required a wardrobe change and all I wanted to do was call you and let you know that tonight just wasn’t going to happen but I figured…”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You’re figured what? That I’d figure it out and definitely _not_ be waiting for you when you got home?”

“I really am sorry,” she repeated. “I don’t even know what time it is. I assume it’s way past time to salvage our dinner plans?”

“Never,” he assured her, surprising himself with how little he was bothered by the change in plans. “I mean, the reservation is long gone,” she interrupted him with a frustrated groan. “ _But,”_ he raced to continue, “We still have the rest of the night with no place to be so…”

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “So…?”

He laughed and shifted her bags into one hand, so he could drape a free arm over her shoulder. “ _So_ why don’t you invite me up, so I can order us some dinner while you take a shower and detox from the last couple hours. Sound good?”

She relaxed against his side with another heavy sigh. This one sounded more relieved than the last. “Yeah,” she said in a small voice that had him wondering exactly what all had happened at the hospital since her last text. “That sounds really good.”

Since only a few swipes of his thumb were all that separated them from delivery of a pizza and a six-pack, Bucky had the food ordered before Natasha even turned her key in the door. She took her things back from him and dropped them all in a pile on the armchair in the corner before she turned and motioned to her open floor plan. “Just…uh, make yourself at home,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Take as long as you need,” he said and dropped onto the deep, squashy sofa. He ran his hands over the velvet burgundy upholstery. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Nat smiled faintly and crossed the room to bend and press a quick kiss to his lips. “Thanks,” she said softly before she stood again and left the room.

The food and beer had arrived by the time the sound of the water rushing stopped in the bathroom. Bucky was returning from the kitchen with plates and paper towels when she emerged from her bedroom. She looked better, he decided. Refreshed and much more comfortable in a pair of soft black shorts and a gray sweater that clung invitingly to the edge of one rounded shoulder, threatening to slip off at any moment.

Bucky pushed the thoughts of her shoulders and slipping anything off them out of his mind for the moment. She folded one leg beneath her as she dropped down onto the couch and reached for a plate. Her lips curled into a smirk when he sat down next to her. “What?” he asked, reminding himself that he had nothing to feel self-conscious about.

Natasha surprised him when she set her plate down and reached over to loosen his tie. He ducked his head, mouth running dry, and let her slip it over his head and toss it aside before she undid the top button of his shirt. She smiled briefly at her handiwork. “There,” she said and grabbed her plate again, turning her attention to the pizza on the table. “Now I don’t feel quite so under-dressed.”

“Hey now,” Bucky said, finding his voice again, wondering if he was ever going to stop feeling like a nervous teenager around her. “It’s a first date,” he reminded her, letting her take the first two slices of red pepper and pineapple pizza. “Can’t blame me for wanting to look my best.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to think of it as a first date,” she said. “Those always make me feel like I’m at a job interview.”

He laughed and slid a piece of pizza onto his own plate. “Aw, come on. First dates aren’t that bad. It’s like a press junket. You get to ask all kinds of questions.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged with a quirk of one eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like…” he rolled his eyes back in thought, “what was your favorite kind of cereal as a kid?”

She laughed. “Going for the heavy hitters first, huh?”

“You’d be surprised how much you can tell about someone based on what kind of cereal they ate too much of when they were a kid.”

Natasha bit her lip, making him momentarily forget that he’d asked a question before she answered. “I think I went through a Fruity Pebbles phase? And Lucky Charms, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed with a grin. “Did you ever eat the cereal? Or just the marshmallows?”

She cocked her head to one side. “There was cereal?” She waited for him to laugh before she cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “Okay, okay, my turn. Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

She sat back in surprise. “Really? You’re not even going to pretend to think about that?”

“Why? Is that a deal breaker?” he asked before taking a bite of his pizza.

She shook her head. “No, I just didn’t expect so much certainty.”

“Well yeah,” he shrugged and swallowed. “’Cause they’re real.”

“Who says?”

“Me!” he exclaimed with a laugh.

“Prove it,” she demanded lightly. “Tell me a ghost story.”

“Easy,” he said confidently. “The apartment I lived in with Steve before we enlisted? Haunted as shit.”

“Pfft!” she scoffed. “Haunted how?”

“Doors would open and close in the middle of the night, the water would turn on when no one was near a faucet, it was straight-up _Paranormal Activity_ in there.”

Natasha shook her head. “That could have been doors that weren’t hung correctly and bad plumbing. It just sounds like an old, shitty apartment to me.”

“It _was_ an old, shitty apartment,” Bucky agreed passionately. “But the landlord told us something like, three different people had died there.”

Her eyes widened. “And you moved in anyway? That wasn’t a turn off?”

He shrugged again. “Well. We were broke. And it was really cheap.”

“And haunted, apparently.”

“ _Super_ haunted,” he corrected. “So yeah, I think ghosts are real.”

“Noted,” she said with a half-smile before she took a thoughtful bite of her slice. “Ask me another one.”

They traded first date questions back and forth—learning things about one another that should have been obvious for people who’d known each other for over a decade—while they ate their way through half the pizza. By the time he’d finished his first beer, Bucky had learned that Natasha’s dream vacation was to hike through Peru, that her parents had immigrated from Russia when she was only three; they were still married, and she had been an only child until she was fifteen, when her parents had adopted a son, Clint, who was two years older. She’d shared that her favorite time of day was sunrise and that hinted that she made something called _pirozhki_ that was her go-to recipe when she needed to impress someone with her culinary skills.

She’d slowed down considerably about halfway through her second slice of pizza. Bucky had to assume that the glassiness of her eyes was more a product of the week she’d just survived than the beer she’d barely touched. She stretched her arms over her head as he closed the pizza box and set his empty plate on top. “I like this game,” she decided with a smile that was just on the other side of sleepy. “Hit me with another one.”

He thought for a second. “Name one of your guilty pleasures.”

She winced and Bucky caught the hint of a blush on her cheeks. “It’s only something I do when I take a sick day…or if I’m feeling really down.”

He raised his eyebrows, inviting her to continue.

Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes. “I like to watch old Spanish telenovelas without the subtitles and make up my own storylines.”

Bucky opened his mouth and closed it again. “Huh.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Not what you were expecting?”

He felt himself start to smile again. “No part of the last month has been what I expected,” he admitted, pleased when she blushed again. “But yeah, I thought you were going to admit to some embarrassing celebrity crush or something.”

“Well in _that_ case,” she reached for her beer. “Who tops the list of your embarrassing celebrity crushes?”

“Walked right into that one, huh?” he muttered and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Uh. Lori Loughlin?”

She frowned and tilted her head again. “Why do I know that name?”

He could feel his ears getting hot as he cleared his throat. “She was um. Aunt Becky? On _Full House_?”

Natasha kept a straight face for one whole second before she snorted out a giggle and clapped a hand over her mouth. “That’s adorable,” she said into her palm.

Bucky groaned and rolled his eyes. “No, it isn’t! She was…very important to me when I was twelve and I don’t see a reason to kick her off the roster just because she’s gotten a little older.”

She placed her plate and bottle back on the coffee table next to his and before he knew it, she’d climbed playfully into his lap and laced her hands at the back of his neck. “So defensive,” she chided, still giggling. Bucky’s hands went to her waist as she tucked her knees around his hips. “Aunt Becky doesn’t know how lucky she is to still have such a loyal fanbase.”

His knew his face was burning by the way she was grinning. “You asked for an embarrassing celebrity crush,” he reminded. “I’m not like, on her mailing list or anything.”

“Don’t worry,” she said as her voice and eyes softened. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

If he had any plans to fire off a comeback, they evaporated when she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Her hands at the back of his neck pulled him forward, urging him to deepen the kiss. Natasha molded easily against him, warm and soft and like she’d always belonged there, under his hands. He let his fingers splay over her waist before they drifted down further to grip lightly at her hips where he couldn’t help but give her a quick, teasing squeeze.

She pulled away first this time; just as he was starting to relax beneath her, letting her set the pace for whatever she wanted to do next. The abrupt way she broke their kiss startled him back into high-alert, briefly worrying if he’d done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against his. Her hands were still at his neck, holding him close.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, pulling back just enough to search her expression for a hint.

“I’m just…” Nat squeezed her eyes shut and winced again. “Bucky, I’m just _so tired._ ” She sat back on her heels and sighed, scrubbing at her eyes. “And I had the _worst_ day and I really want to enjoy…” she motioned to the air between them, “all of this but I…” her shoulders slumped. “I just don’t think I can do this right now.”

“Okay.”

She looked up and frowned. “Yeah?”

He shrugged and felt a smile tug at his lips. “Look,” he said, letting his hands roam up to her shoulders and down the backs of her arms, his movements switching from seductive to soothing. “More than anything? I wanted you to have a good time tonight. And if that means you have to go to bed at ten o’clock then so be it. I’m just glad I got to see you.”

She groaned and scrubbed at her face again. “Why are you being so nice? I’m disappointed in myself.” She looked up, her lips pulled into a pout that was almost too kissable to resist.

Bucky smirked. “Because I’m a catch, Romanov,” he reached up and tucked a red curl behind her ear. “I thought that was obvious by now.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned in to kiss him once more. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered before she untangled herself from him and got to her feet. They cleaned up the little mess they’d made and put what remained of their dinner in the refrigerator before Natasha started yawning in earnest.

Bucky smiled again as he watched her blink rapidly and appear to be weighing the options of doing the dishes. He clapped his hands to her shoulders and steered her away from the kitchen. “Those will still be here in the morning,” he promised, marching her back toward her bedroom. “You need to sleep.”

“Hurrumph,” she grumbled. “I had so many plans.”

“Plans, huh?” he asked, amused as she reached out and shut lights off along the way. “What kind of plans?”

“Good plans,” she reiterated. “Sam Cooke and sexy high heels plans.”

“Those _do_ sound like good plans,” he agreed.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked as they crossed the threshold of her bedroom and she slipped from under his hands to turn on the light by her bed.

“I’m off, as luck would have it.” His eyebrows lifted. “Wanna give those Sam Cooke plans another go?”

She grabbed a familiar bundle of clothes from the armchair in the corner and pushed them into his chest. “Don’t say I never gave ‘em back,” she said softly.

He smirked. “Kicking me out?”

Natasha bit her lip and looked nervous for the first time. “Or not,” she moved her shoulder in a shrug that didn’t quite achieve carelessness. “You could…stay. If you wanted.”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “Here?”

“You don’t have to,” she said a little too quickly. “I just figured…you’re off. I’m off. There’s less of a chance that we’ll miss each other this way.”

He didn’t usually do sleepovers. He never felt comfortable. Usually an invitation to spend the night in someone else’s bed meant lying awake, not sleeping, wondering how long he had to wait before he could slip away without it looking like he was sneaking out.

But there was something in the softness of Natasha having spent the evening with him in her pajamas, in the low lighting of her room, the hint of vulnerability hiding in her gaze and the way her teeth pressed into her plush bottom lip.

“Well,” he looked down at the clothes in his hands and pretended there was anything to consider. “I mean, I’ve already got comfy clothes…”

The anxiety vanished from her expression as she leaned in and stretched up on her toes to brush her lips to his. “I forgot to take my contacts out,” she said softly before she left him alone to change.

Which, considering where he thought they’d been headed on the couch, was pretty cute.

 

***

 

It was after seven when Natasha’s eyes fluttered open the next morning. Dim light from the overcast sky was filtering through her roman shades and she felt more refreshed than she had in weeks.

She was also alone, she noted with a frown as she examined her rumpled bedsheets. She couldn’t have been for long, though, she reasoned. She distinctly remembered being spooned against a very warm body when she’d woken up briefly around four.

A sound from the front of the apartment startled her out of her head. She got to her feet and followed her senses out of her room and toward the kitchen, logging unexpected smells and sounds along the way.

Coffee.

Something sweet that might be cinnamon.

And music.

No, she realized with a smile as she rounded the corner and found Bucky standing at her stove. Not just music.

Sam Cooke was crooning out one of his classics from Bucky’s phone on the counter.

“Careful,” she said, pleased when he jumped a little and turned around to see her leaning in the doorway. “A girl could get used to this kind of service.”

His hair was still a little messy and fell into his eyes before he pushed it away with a smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

She shook her head and made her way over to him. He’d turned back to his work and Natasha felt unable to stop herself from wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing the tip of her nose to his shoulder for a deep inhale of his mix of cologne and soap and whatever else it was that made it him smell so good.

“What are you making?” she asked as she stretched up onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.

“French toast,” he answered around the sound of the whisk he was whipping through a bowl of eggs and cream. Natasha spied the cinnamon and vanilla still on the counter next to a squeezed half of an orange.

“What’s the orange for?”

He turned his head just enough to kiss her forehead. “An important part of my secret recipe,” he chided with a grin.

“Color me surprised,” she commented lightly as she slipped her hands under his shirt and dragged her nails across the soft patch of hair on his stomach. “Who knew Bucky Barnes had secret recipes.”

He squirmed when her fingers drifted up higher, closer to his ribs and she smiled at the idea that he was still ticklish. “I’ve been a firefighter for fifteen years,” he reminded, as he reached for a slice of the Italian bread she’d bought two days ago. “You don’t last long with any squad if you can’t cook.” Natasha watched with interest as he dipped both sides of the bread in the batter and dropped it onto the skillet with a satisfying sizzle. He reached for a spatula from her crock of utensils before he stopped and looked back at her, amused. “Are you going to watch me every step of the way?”

She nodded with a smile that made him chuckle. “I’m just studying,” she said with an innocent bounce of her shoulders.

Bucky looked almost bashful for a moment before he reached around and pulled her in front of him. “Study all you want,” he said, moving them both a little further down the counter. She heard him slide his wallet and phone out of the way. “Just do it from here.”

Before she could protest, Bucky grabbed her tightly by the hips and lifted her up to sit on the counter on the other side of the stovetop. Her feet swung twice before Bucky flipped the slice of bread on the skillet, revealing the other side to be a perfect golden brown. From where he’d deposited her on the counter, she was right beside the coffee pot and easily poured herself a cup.

“You drink it black?” Bucky asked as she raised the cup to her lips. She nodded, surprised when he let out a low whistle. “Jesus, you’re such a grown-up.”

She chuckled into her coffee and set it down after she’d taken a long, warming swallow. “Did you sleep okay?”

He dipped another piece of bread in the batter and nodded. “I did,” he said, sounding sincere. “Your bed is…”

“Ridiculously comfortable?” she supplied helpfully.

“Pretty much.” He glanced up with another shy smile before he added, “the company wasn’t bad either.”

Natasha felt a stirring in her belly that had nothing to do with the sweet, heady smell of French toast batter. She watched, without further comment, as Bucky grilled two more slices of toast and set all three on a plate beside her. He grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and drizzled a swirl over his handiwork before he placed a fork on the plate and offered it to her. She bit her lip in consideration for a second before she opened her mouth and raised her eyebrows invitingly.

She wouldn’t have thought it would be so easy to make a guy like Bucky blush. It was faint and colored mostly around his ears, but it was there and the realization that she could do it was more than a little thrilling.

Bucky cut into a piece of French toast with the edge of the fork and held it up to her mouth. She leaned forward and closed her lips around it, pulling the bread onto her tongue. She had to swallow back a moan.

It was one of the best things anyone had ever made her. The batter had made the bread crunchy and sweet, with that hint of orange bringing out the richer flavor of the cinnamon and vanilla.

“Good?” he asked, looking almost nervous.

She swallowed and nodded quickly and took the fork from his hand before he could stop her. She cut off another bite and held it out to him. “See for yourself.”

He took a bite obediently and let out a hum of delight before he swallowed. “Damn, I’m good,” he said with a half-smile. He took the fork back and cut her another piece, seeming content to stand between her knees and share breakfast with one plate and one fork, trading bites.

As good as the food was, Natasha was feeling impatient. She was greedy for more, chasing that fire he’d stirred inside of her almost a month ago. The one he’d kept at a low simmer with all these weeks of stolen kisses and flirty texts full of innuendo.

So when, toward the end of the second piece of French toast, Bucky reached up with a smile to swipe at a drop of syrup clinging to her bottom lip, Natasha opened her mouth again and pulled his thumb between her lips. She watched Bucky’s eyes widen with a swirl of her tongue against his skin.

They stared at each other for a long moment when she let him go. Bucky’s eyes had grown darker with intensity and Natasha felt a chill of anticipation curl up her spine. He dropped his hands to her hips and tugged her close as his lips slanted against hers and pulled a soft moan of satisfaction from somewhere in the back of her throat.

Her fingers slid under his shirt and she pulled away from his kiss just long enough to push it up and over his head. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he claimed her lips in another kiss and teased his tongue against hers.

Bucky pulled away breathlessly and kissed a soft trail over to her ear. “Do you want to go back to bed?” he asked before he clenched his teeth around her earlobe.

She squirmed and shook her head, practically giddy with lust. “Later,” she breathed. “I want you right now.”

That was all the invitation Bucky needed. He grabbed her by the hips again and slid her off the counter. Her legs and arms tightened around him as he spun her around and cleared her kitchen table with a sweep of his arm. Vaguely she heard something heavy clatter to the floor, but Bucky had already put her down and was pulling her sweater over her head and nothing on the floor could possibly be more important than the way he was looking at her.

He sank one hand into her hair while the other crept up her belly to palm her breast over her lace bralette. She arched into his hands and opened her mouth greedily to let him sweep his tongue inside again. Natasha felt Bucky’s hand drift around to her back and his palm flatten over the smooth strip of lace between her shoulders. She waited until he’d let his other hand slide around her other side, his fingers exploring for a clasp or a hook before she pulled back and ducked her head to catch his gaze.

“How—um,” he said as he stopped his fumbling. “How does this...”

Natasha bit back a smile and raised her arms. “Just over my head,” she said simply, giving him another nod of consent before he did as she instructed and tossed the lacy fabric to the floor.

Bucky matched her grin as he pushed back the hair he’d forced into her eyes and held her face in his hands. “How long were you going to let me try to figure that out?”

She giggled and brushed her nose against his. “Not much longer,” she admitted. “I just wanted to see if you would ask for help.”

He dropped a kiss to her lips and smiled again. “Any other tricky articles of clothing I need to be on the lookout for?”

“Keep going and find out,” she suggested and inched closer to the edge of the table so she could press herself fully against him. His skin was intoxicatingly warm and surprisingly soft and the more she felt against her own the more she wanted.

But Bucky didn’t make a move to remove any more of her clothing. He sank his hand into her hair again and pulled her head to one side, exposing her neck. He dropped his lips to the spot beneath her ear and began a chain of hot, wet kisses down her throat, alternating between playful flicks of his tongue and the teasing scrape of his teeth that had her biting back another moan as the ache between her legs intensified.

He kissed further down, over her collarbone and chest until he sealed his lips around the sensitive peak of her nipple and Natasha decided she was done being quiet.

Encouraged by the sounds she made when he matched the pressure of his lips with his fingers on the other side, Bucky took a maddeningly long time with her breasts. Her body was conflicted, caught between enjoying the pace he had set and desperately needing more as quickly as possible.

“Lie back,” he said, surprising her with a husky whisper.

She did as he asked as he ran his hands down her waist and stilled at the waistband of her shorts. “Yes,” she breathed before he could look up for confirmation. “Please,” she added when he grinned and placed a kiss to her stomach.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured as his stubble scraped against her skin. His thumbs hooked under each side of her shorts and panties and he slid them slowly down her legs. He kissed her hips, the birthmark and freckles on her thighs, the scars on her knees and shins.

Her stomach flipped again when Bucky got to his knees and gently spread her legs to kiss his way back up her inner thighs. He stopped at her center, his breath hot on her skin when he kissed her thigh again.

Natasha squirmed, waiting for him to make a move. “We can do this later,” she insisted, wondering if he was trying to kill her with all of this anticipation. “I want—”

Bucky’s tongue sliding into her killed the words on her lips and forced another ungoverned moan from her throat. He circled her throbbing clit just once before he pulled away. “I know what you want,” he assured her and kissed her lower belly as he met her eyes with a devilish grin.  “I want to know what you like.”

She didn’t say anything when he dropped his head again and flattened his tongue against her. Her fingers sank into his dark hair and held him there, a strangled moan in her throat as he circled her clit again. Bucky’s hands were wrapped around her thighs, holding her open to his mouth, her legs hooked over his shoulders; she could hear him moan against her as he licked her, swallowing her arousal eagerly, and it made her throb that much more.

She almost screamed in frustration when he broke the rhythm of his tongue a second time before she realized he was speaking. “Tell me what you like, Natasha,” he insisted, his request breaking through the fog of pleasure in her mind.

She stared wordlessly at the ceiling and felt her mouth open and close as she tried to process what he was asking her. She didn’t usually talk during sex, save for a helpful direction here and there. And while she _knew_ what she liked, she couldn’t remember if she’d ever articulated it.

Or if anyone had ever asked her.

She glanced down and caught his piercing gaze, her fingers still twisting in his hair. “I…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling shy as her mind went blank. She squirmed again, desperate for him to continue his deliciously slow exploration, but the pressure of his mouth sliding over her was too brief and she felt him smile when he pulled away again.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked. She gasped when he dipped his tongue inside of her, but he quickly pulled back and she practically whimpered. “Just say it, Natasha,” he said with a low, possessive edge in his voice. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I…” she licked her lips and tried again. “I like…”

Bucky sucked her clit between his lips, and Natasha’s back bowed off the table. Everything came tumbling out at once, coaxed by the insistent pull of his mouth around her clit. " _That_! I like that!" she panted desperately, fisting both hands into his hair. "I like, I like being licked and, and sucked—just like that—" she gasped when he suckled more urgently, pumping two fingers inside her, "I like—I like being fucked hard. I want you to bend me over and pound into me and not act like you’re going to break me and— _Jesus Christ, Bucky_ ," she cut herself off with a moan louder than she thought herself capable of, unable to continue when the wave of pleasure at her center finally crashed over her. She came hard a second later, pulsing around his fingers as he continued to fuck her with them, his tongue tracing delicate patterns on her clit while she rode out the rest of her orgasm in spasms, until she slumped to the table.

She missed him the moment he moved away, but in her state of wrung-out pleasure, she could do little more than whine and stretch her hand out. She was still blinking the spots out of her eyes when he returned to the table, a familiar square of red foil between his fingers.

He leaned over her, his hair falling into her eyes and pressed his lips to hers. “Flip over,” he said softly and brushed his nose to hers.

“Happily,” she murmured, accepting his help to sit up and set her feet back on the floor. Bucky shimmied out of his sweats and boxer-briefs and tore into the condom with his teeth. She watched him roll it on, unable to take her eyes off the beautiful cock in his hand, eagerly erect.

Natasha turned away from him and faced the table. Another thrill ran up her spine when she felt Bucky’s hand between her shoulders, pressing her down before he combed his fingers into her hair and gave it a good tug. He scraped his nails down her back before he stepped between her legs and grabbed hold of her hips. She felt him at her entrance, barely penetrating with a few teasing thrusts before he sank into her entirely with a deeply satisfied groan.

She moaned at the feeling of finally having him inside of her. Her limbs felt like jelly and she didn’t bother trying to hold herself up; she folded her hands in front of her and dropped her forehead to them. “You feel amazing,” she heard him say, his words a hushed whisper that cut right through her.

“So do you,” she sighed as he began to move. He started slowly at first, pulling all the way out before sinking back into her. As good as it felt to have him taking his time, Natasha was grateful when his grip on her hips tightened and his pace quickened. Each snap of his hips drew another muffled whimper from her throat, accompanied by the slap of his skin against hers and his own ragged breathing and provided quite a soundtrack for his relentless thrusts.

She jolted with a shock when he released her hips and pushed her legs farther apart to slip his fingers back between her folds. She sucked an inhale through clenched teeth when he circled her clit again, matching the pressure of his fingers with how hard he was pounding into her. Her eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm snapped suddenly up her spine and left her moaning into the backs of her hands.

“Nat, I’m—” Bucky’s movements had lost their rhythm as she pulsed around him. He gripped her hips again, harder this time, his nails digging into her skin. “I’m gonna come.”

She nodded against the table, unable to do more than grunt her approval. He inhaled sharply and jerked her hips hard against his and slowed his frantic thrusts, gently rocking into her as his cock throbbed and released into the condom. Still inside of her, he leaned forward and kissed her between her shoulder blades.

Natasha felt shaky and empty when he pulled out of her a moment later. A wave of exhaustion kept her head against her hands while she listened to him shuffle to the garbage can beneath the sink and dispose of the condom. By the time she forced herself to flip back over, he’d retrieved his boxer-briefs from the floor and pulled the back on before he collapsed in the nearest chair at the table.

She sat up feeling weak and dizzy with pleasure. Bucky’s hair fell into his eyes and he didn’t make a move to push it back. He glanced up at her as she stretched her arms lazily over her head and smiled. “C’mere,” he said softly and pulled her into his lap before she could protest.

Not that she wanted to.

She wound her arms around his neck and dropped her forehead to his. She bit her lip, feeling oddly shy before he leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, gentle, one that almost didn’t match the frantic way he’d just bent her over the table and made her scream.

“Hey Bucky?” she said when he pulled away.

He pushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes. “Yeah?”

Natasha felt the corner of her lips slide into a smile. “I’m really glad you waited for me last night.”

Bucky kissed her again and she felt him smile back before he said, “I’m really glad I waited for you too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? 
> 
> Come play with me on Tumblr @idontgettechnology; ain't no party like a Darcyland party!


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